


sometimes you go through hell (and you never get to heaven)

by tamzinrose



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fainting, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Panic Attacks, Phobias, References to Depression, YouTube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-01-04 08:45:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18340196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamzinrose/pseuds/tamzinrose
Summary: Many years ago, I wrote real person fiction. I'm trying to get back into doing it with hurt/comfort fic, which I will dump here. I will also take prompts.





	1. Fainting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will-centric.

Will's a late substitution to George's video on fan edits, as Alex claimed he'd be ready to film then wasn't. Subsequently, most of the videos are of Alex, largely so George can make jokes about how his fans are better editors than he is. It's an easy video; Will could take the piss out of Alex in his sleep.

Except, then George starts in with the horror movie videos: James as a murderer, Fraser as a cult leader, something to do with werewolves. It's the vampire videos that are the problem. Clips of Alex covered in fake blood (and real blood from that time he had a nosebleed and kept it in because he's grim).

Will loses his train of thought a little, catches himself trailing off in the middle of a sentence, prompting George to turn to him. "You all right?"

"Yeah," Will says. "Just gonna grab a drink."

As he stands, his vision tunnels to bright white. He blindly reaches for anything to try to steady himself. Stupidly, it doesn't occur to him to just sit back down.

"Will?" George says, sounding like he's suddenly very far away. "You okay?"

Will answers by fainting.

"Oh, shit!" George lunges and somehow sort of manages to get Will shoved back in his chair. "Oi, Alex!"

"What?" he calls back, sounding annoyed. It's usually nothing good when he gets summoned to join a video.

"Will just passed out."

It has the desired effect, bringing Alex charging in. "Oh, shit, what happened?"

George shrugs. "He went fucking white, said he was gonna get a drink, then his eyes rolled back in his head. I've never actually seen someone faint before."

"Well. Fuck. What should we do?"

"We need an adult."

"We're adults, George. We just know fuck all about first aid." Alex crouches next to Will and taps his cheek. "Will, mate? Can you wake up, please?"

George huffs a laugh. "I bet first aid teaches you to be polite."

"Oh, shut up. You're just as useless as I am. Go and get him a drink, since that's apparently what he wanted before this happened."

George mock salutes as he heads off on his task.

Alex watches Will's brows scrunch and his eyes start to flicker. "Will? Hey, mate, you back with us?" 

Will groans and peers at Alex groggily. "You're not George."

"Nope," Alex agrees. "He's gone to get you some water. You feeling okay?"

Will rubs at his eyes, and Alex notices that his hands are shaking. "Hmm. Not great."

"D'you know what happened?"

Will gets a sheepish look on his face. "Fainted."

"D'you know why?"

Will sighs. "Don't laugh."

"Yeah, I'm too busy being worried to laugh right now, mate."

"I don't like blood. Stupid videos of you as a vampire."

"Ah. Did you consider telling George you needed a break?"

Will shrugs.

"Oh, he's not dead," George says, thrusting a bottle of water at Will, who is shaking too badly to open it.

"Turns out, you tried to kill him."

"I did?"

"Will faints at blood," Alex explains, taking the bottle from Will to open then pass back to him.

"Oh. Sorry, Will. You should have said."

"Yeah, probably should. Think you've got 10 minutes yet?"

George and Alex exchange incredulous looks.

"If I say no, are you gonna try to tell us you're good to keep filming?"

"Me? Yeah,  I'm fine."

"Yeah, no, you're not. I've got 10 minutes, and if I haven't, I'll figure something out. You look like shit, big man."

"Love you, too." 

"Fuck off for a nap or something," George suggests. "Oh, and I'm gonna bully you relentlessly about this when you look less like you've recently risen from the dead."

"I would expect nothing less."


	2. Burns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I kinda cheated with this one. George-centric.

"Can I ask you something?"

It's more than a little suspicious that George has waited until Alex is distracted elsewhere, leaving the two of them alone together.

"You just did. Would you like to ask me something else?"

"I'd like to punch your smug face." George rolls his eyes. "But yeah, I do have a question. Have you ever... Has it ever burned when you piss?"

"George, mate, that's an STI."

"No. My sex life is more dead than Alex's view count."

"But it burns when you pee."

"Yeah, well." George shrugs. "Y'know, a bit. And there might have been blood, once."

"George! What the fuck? Go to the doctor!"

"Nah, it'll just sort itself out, won't it?"

James stares at him, incredulous. "I really hope you're gonna say 'baited' in a minute, but I don't think you are. Please make a doctor's appointment."

"D'you really think I need one?"

"For peeing blood? Yes, yes I do, mate. Even if it's just like a kidney infection or something, it'd still be good to know, wouldn't it? D'you want me to come with you?"

George laughs. "No! I'm not four. I can see the doctor on my own."

"Make sure you do."

"I will! Promise."

"There will be consequences if you break this promise, George Memeulous."


	3. Asking for Help / Forced to Face a Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big WillNE calls for help in facing a fear. (Will-centric featuring James)

James gets a text from Will at almost midnight that just says: _help_. So, being the friend that he is, he calls him up on facetime. "Y'all right, mate?"

"You're gonna laugh at me," Will says.

"Yeah, probably. What's the matter?"

"There's a proper massive spider in my bedroom. It's fuck off big."

"Okay. And?"

"And Gee isn't here to take care of it."

"Ah, so, you called the bravest person you know!"

"Well, nah. The closest. Time sensitive issue. What if the fucker moves? Then I won't know where he is or what he's planning."

James bravely tries to choke back laughter. "Should I head over to rescue you, Will?"

"Oh, no, I'm fine here, got the situation under control, me." Will moves his phone to expose that he's perched on the kitchen counter, for safety.

"I'll come now. Try not to get attacked by an aggressive arachnid in the meantime."

-

Will hovers nearish to his open bedroom door but won't come any closer, keeps squirming away at the suggestion.

"Whereabouts was this foul beast when last you saw him?"

"On the wall. Near the bed. Gonna pounce on me when I'm sleeping, the fucker."

"Could you be more specific?"

"It's a fucking massive spider, mate, you'll spot it!"

"Just come here and help me look."

"No!"

"Oh, come on. It's just a little spider. They're not scary. Just a little incy wincy."

"Can you please not be a dick about this? I'm proper not comfortable with this situation and I thought you were gonna help, but if you're just here to take the piss, you can fuck off."

"Will." James reaches for his shoulder, gives him a little comforting squeeze. "I'm sorry. I've been spending too much time with Alex. We get kind of relentless with each other. I didn't mean to embarrass you."

Will huffs. "I sat on the kitchen counter for about an hour before I called you. I know I'm being absolutely pathetic."

"You're not."

"I am."

"Maybe a bit," James agrees, fondly. "Does Gee usually capture them or kill them?"

"Puts 'em under a glass and chucks them out. Tells me when it's done."

"Like a hitman? Target: Eliminated."

"James, mate, you can tackle this however the fuck you want."

"Get me a glass and something to put under it. I'm going hunting."

-

A short battle ensues: James Marriott versus the Invader. To be fair to Will, the spider is on the larger side, fat bodied but luckily lacking in speed.

"I got it!" James calls. Will has retreated to the safety of the kitchen counter again. "D'you wanna see it?"

"Fuck no!"

"Oh, go on. I won't make you touch it and I promise I won't let it escape."

"No!"

James carries the spider in its glass and paper prison through to the kitchen, placing the whole lot down on the table. Will yelps and scrabbles backwards on the kitchen counter, one hand flailing wildly towards the knife block.

"Will, are you planning to knife fight a spider?"

"Nah, 's for you."

"You're going to stab me for trying to get you to look at a spider. Does that sound reasonable to you?"

Will folds his arms, crossly. "That's why it's an irrational fear, mate."

"Okay, but you obviously trust me enough that you asked me for help, so can you try to trust me when I tell you that nothing bad will happen if you look at this spider? You're perfectly safe. He's trapped. He's going nowhere."

"He's going outside," Will corrects.

"He's not going outside until you've confronted him."

"No. Fuck that. That's not fair."

"I don't think it's fair that you fled your bedroom and climbed onto the kitchen counter because you were so frightened by a situation that is going to occur again in the future. You need to be prepared."

"I am," Will protests. "I live with Gee."

"What was the back up plan, if I hadn't come over?"

"Was gonna try some other people."

"And then?"

"...a hotel," Will mumbles.

"You know that's ridiculous, don't you?"

"Yeah. Obviously. Please just get rid of it, James, mate."

"Not until you come down from the counter."

Will slides down, reluctantly, leaving a lot of space between him and the table.

"Just come and look. I'm not getting rid of it until you do. Accept your fate."

"You're a bastard."

"I know. I'll sweeten the deal: I'll be in two videos and I won't complain about it."

Will considers this, taking two cautious steps closer. "Get me Alex for a vid."

"I'm not his keeper."

"You basically are, though."

"Basically. Okay, sure, you can have Alex for a video."

" _And_ two with you?"

"Yes."

"And you swear you'll get rid of that fucker straight after?"

"Yes, Will, I promise."

Will takes a deep breath and exhales in a groan. "I really don't want to do this."

"I know. But you can."

Will takes a few tentative steps closer while James smiles at him encouragingly. "Oh, fuck, he's a beast."

"No match for a big alpha like you."

"This is the least alpha I have ever felt in my life. I'm fully fucking shaking."

"Oh, mate. You've got this. It'll be over and done with so fast."

"You know I really don't like you, don't you?"

"I'm aware. Quit stalling and come here."

"Can't believe I'm doing this," Will mumbles, then takes another deep breath and closes the distance to approach his nemesis. "Oh, fuck, oh, no, oh." He stumbles back. "I'm done, I did it, get rid of the fucker."

"You did it! You're a hero!"

"You're a bastard. Take your spider and get out."

James cackles with laughter as he collects his prisoner. "See if I help you next time there's a spider situation." 


	4. Grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will featuring James and Alex, mourning a dog

Will finds out between TWOTI shows. A text from his mum that says "Call when you can. Love you XX" and a sinking feeling in his gut.

He gets up and walks out of the room without a word to any of his friends, a flicker of relief under the pounding of his heart that he's in London, that he's home or at least at George and Alex's place and not some hotel room somewhere.

Will knows before she says it, gripping the rim of the sink so tightly that his knuckles go stark white as he listens to his mum tell him that she's so sorry and that Darcey is dead. Will hears himself say "Thank you for telling me", all stiff and formal, then he's ending the call and putting his phone down and sinking onto the bathroom floor, curling into himself.

He realises he didn't lock the door when George opens it into him. "You all right?"

"Yeah." Will pushes himself up to standing, has to clutch at George when his legs don't quite hold. "Sorry. Pins and needles." He must have been on the floor longer than he knew.

"So you were just sitting on the floor?" George asks. "Is this some tour ritual?"

"Nah. Just. Felt a bit sick."

George frowns at him. "Have you puked?"

"Nah."

"Are you gonna?"

The hollow ache in his stomach doesn't feel good but it's not nausea either. "Nah. Just felt a bit funny. Fine now."

George gives him a doubtful look before ushering him out of the bathroom so he can pee.

Will tries to take his place on the sofa back with the others, picking up a controller for his turn at FIFA, but he's shaky and uncoordinated and not animated enough.

"D'you need a nap?" James asks. Stephen wandered off for one at some point without Will noticing.

"Uh, no. I'm grand."

Will notices Alex and James exchange a look out of the corner of his eye. James turns FIFA off and they both turn their full attention onto Will.

"You don't look all right," Alex says, carefully.

Will rubs his eyes, trying to ignore the burn there that warns that he's going to start crying. "'m fine," he says, except his voice cracks ominously. "Don't tell Stephen."

James shifts closer so he can wrap an arm around Will, tuck him in close, make him feel every bit of their size difference. It's warm and safe and Will turns to bury his face in James's hoody and mumble his confession into the fabric.

"What did you say?" Alex leans in on Will's other side to try and pick out words that are less muffled.

"Darcey died." Will feels his breathing hitch around the lump in his throat, squeezes his eyes shut to try to hold back.

"Oh, mate," Alex says softly. "I'm sorry."

"That's shit," James agrees, cuddling Will more firmly.

"I'm gonna get you a cup of tea."

"And biscuits," James orders. "You need some sugar. Well, you've already got this snacc."

Will huffs a laugh and it seems to trigger the opening of the floodgates so that he's fully sobbing. James bundles him into his lap like it's no big deal.

"Oh, Will, I'm so sorry," Alex says, sadly, abandoning his tea on the coffee table to rub Will's back and stroke his hair and make him feel even more childish and pathetic. "D'you need to cancel the show?"

"No!" Will chokes, frantic.

James tuts at Alex. "Okay, shh, that's okay. Just cry it out for now. We'll see how you feel after a good cry. You're fine. We've got you."

"Sorry," Alex mumbles.

The tea has gone cold by the time Will has calmed down enough to drink it, having just about stopped the stupidly pathetic hitching hiccuping breaths of a toddler post-meltdown. He drinks it anyway, hands cradling the mug as if it's still warm, craving the idea of comfort.

"I'm not cancelling tonight," he insists. "I'm not doing an announcement. And you're not either."

"Please can we tell Stephen, though?" Alex asks.

"We're worried about you."

Will shakes his head. "I don't need him worrying too. He's bad enough about the nerves. Don't need him thinking I'm gonna start bloody crying too."

"D'you think you can get through it okay then?"

"Gonna have to," Will says, shrugging.

"You don't have to."

"Everyone's coming. Brian and Laurence and all of you lot. Can't disappoint everyone just because I'm a bit, y'know, sad."

James and Alex exchange another wary look.

"What about the meet and greet?"

Will's breath hitches again and he makes himself huff it out in a sigh. "Gonna have to get through that, too, aren't I?"

"Not if you can't. It's not great, but you're really not in the right headspace for it."

Will shakes his head, sets his face determinedly. "I'm not cancelling."

"And you're not telling Stephen?"

"Nah. Just. Gonna do it. Get through it. Then it's done."

James leans forward over to kiss the top of Will's head and Will makes a faux-disgusted face at him. "Love you, Will."

"You're a melt."


	5. Depression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex, second person POV, lowercase.

you don't realise how bad it is until you're midway through filming a video and your voice cracks, then you try to clear your throat and can't swallow around the broken glass sharp sensation that makes your eyes burn. once you start crying, you can't stop. 

that's how it goes. you sob, hysterically, completely helplessly unable to stop. it's exhausting and it's awful, being that out of control of yourself and your body and your life.

there's this prickle, this buzzing whisper in the back of your brain, with every bad day you have, every dark mood that takes you that you can't shake off, that this might be it. this might be the time it's as bad as Before.

it's not easy, it's never easy, but you've been able to convince yourself for a while, keep it pushed back, because you've been busy and you've been moving out and there's been another fucking ad crisis. everyone is feeling it. there's a reason, there, something to have a reaction to.

except. as hard as you can push it back, as far away as you can drive it, it's fucking relentless. it creeps, it waits, it lingers. then, suddenly, there it is, entirely present and undeniable and inescapable.

Depression.

you barely survived, before. omnia house and living with your parents again and feeling completely convinced that you'd utterly fucked everything up, killed your channel and burned your bridges and uploaded an apology-explanation-farewell video and you honestly weren't sure if you were going to leave your channel or your life behind.

the thought of going back to that, back to nothing, fills you with dread, real and true terror. you can't do this again. there's no guarantee you'll make it through to the other side or if there even is an other side or how long you might be trapped there inside it.

foods lose flavour. your attention span dwindles. you can't sleep when you try to but can't stay awake when you want to. reactions become forced; you genuinely can't process whether you think something is funny, the layer of fog between you and the world too thick to think through.

whatever progress you had made since your last battle seems utterly irrelevant when you're absorbed in it again, consumed. all the ground you clawed back, the victories you claimed for yourself, the shields and weapons you thought they could be are trinkets and paper tigers.

you can never be prepared. you forget, convince yourself to forget, how bad it is when you're in the thick of it, a trick to keep you going without giving in.   
but it haunts you, the memories of endless stretches of time that felt unbearable.

you never recover from depression; you're in remission until you aren't, and then you're either in remission again or dead.

your friends are bright spots in the darkness, glimmers of hope, even when you're convinced that you're the albatross that will drag them all down with you, the rot that will spread, the spark that will burn them all up.

you talk to fans, when you can, remind yourself that you do this for them, that there are people who get through their bad days with your videos, that they rely on that and you can't just give up because you don't feel like you have the energy to put in all the effort.

your friends encourage you to take breaks, to guest in their videos instead, to do stuff that isn't youtube related. there's a tightness in your shoulders whenever you're not working, the crushing weight of guilt and stress, because you can see your channel failing, see your views dwindling, see it all slipping and falling away.

you try going away to escape it, but you're still you. you can't outrun yourself, can't just take a holiday from mental illness. 

you wake to blood on your pillows and pulsing pain behind your eyes at 2pm and wonder if there's any point in getting up, wonder if there's any point in anything.


End file.
